


sweet sixteen

by pinaceae



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I promise, Lesbian Catra (She-Ra), POV Catra, Pre-Canon, and gay panic, and while listening to evermore, because, boy oh boy is there a lot of yearning, but it's worth it, but yeah, it fixed me and broke me at the same time, like a lot, lots of yearning, this is also kind of a Catra character study?, this is definitely your daily dose of angst, this might possibly be my favorite fic that I ever wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinaceae/pseuds/pinaceae
Summary: “I wanted to give you your present,” Adora said, breaking a silence Catra had only just noticed. “So, close your eyes.”Catra dutifully closed her eyes.“And hold your hands,” Adora continued, her voice soft.Catra’s held out her hands, her heart drumming in her chest. She was suddenly very aware of just how close Adora was standing to her. Adora placed her hands on Catra’s, gently placing a small object in Catra’s palms. Catra desperately hoped Adora’s hands would linger, all she ever wanted in that moment was to bathe in her soft touch.“Happy birthday," Adora said.Catra tried to contain a shiver; she could barely breathe. The only thing she could focus on was how Adora's hands were still wrapped tightly around Catra's, holding on for one second longer than they needed to. How can you think about something as trivial as breathing when Adora's breath is falling softly onto your skin? How can you feel anything else when Adora's hands are wrapped around yours, warm and soft and firm and so wonderfully Adora?But then Adora was moving her hands away, and the moment was gone.~Basically, Catra is hopeless with yearning, and Adora is oblivious.
Relationships: Adora & Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	sweet sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> this might possibly be my favorite fic that I've ever written.
> 
> I'm really proud of the way it turned out, and I hope that you all like it as much as I do! As always, comments and kudos are always appreciated! I love hearing feedback, or your favorite parts, or literally anything else you want to say <3

Catra gripped the railing of the Horde balcony, staring distractedly into the landscape of rotting buildings. She didn’t know why she liked this balcony so much; it wasn’t really anything special. It wasn’t particularly quiet, all the pieces of metal that were haphazardly fused together creaked as Catra walked over them, the railing was slowly coming out of its bolts, and the view was shit. Yet, this was the balcony that Catra had spent one too many nights on, bathing in the quiet.

Sure, Adora had followed her out here plenty of times. But Adora wasn’t here now, it was just Catra. Alone. In the silence.

But Catra didn’t mind; in fact, she was appreciative of the quiet. It gave her a chance to, well, think. It _was_ her sixteenth birthday, (not that anyone cared), and she still had to decide how she felt about that. 

Birthdays in the Horde were never anything special. In fact, most times, they were overlooked. Catra didn’t even know why they bothered with birthdays in the first place, since no one seemed to really care much for them. Yet, Adora always seemed to remember their birthdays. Even when Catra forgot her own birthday, Adora never did. 

Never, in their entire sixteen years of friendship, had Adora forgotten a birthday. 

Usually, birthdays were spent on this very balcony, talking and giggling. They would stay up all night, raiding the kitchen and playing pranks, ignoring everything else for just one day. Adora would always give some random, yet touching, gift that she somehow found in the pile of junk that was the Horde. 

Catra had been worried, actually, earlier this morning. The room that she shared with everyone else was empty when she woke up, even though she had woken up fairly early. Even Adora had left her, and Catra had briefly wondered if Adora had broken her streak and forgot, until she walked into the training room to find it decorated in assorted balloons and streamers. Adora, Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio had spent the hours making a _party_ for Catra. They had even managed to bake a cake. 

And, just for a few hours, everything was perfect. 

That is, until Shadow Weaver discovered the party. Adora had, as usual, tried to place the blame on herself and take all the punishment. But Shadow Weaver loved Adora too much for that; the blame must fall squarely on Catra, who had to endure all of Shadow Weaver’s tortures for the past sixteen years with no rhyme or reason as to why.

After that, Catra didn’t feel much like partying anymore. What even was there to celebrate, anyway? Her birthday? Her life?

It was quite clear that no one really cared much for either.

“Catra?” a voice asked, breaking Catra’s train of thought. Catra recognized it instantly as Adora’s, which meant that Adora was likely standing directly behind her; ready to smooth over all of Catra's worries with her annoyingly cute, dopey little grin that was likely already on her face. 

“You found me,” Catra said quietly. She didn’t turn around yet, she was still pretending to be focused on the landscape. Only pretending, though, it was suddenly very hard to focus on much of anything. 

“Look, I’m sorry Shadow Weaver ruined your party, but it’s still your birthday,” Adora began, her voice gentle. She walked up next to Catra and placed one hand next to hers on the railing. “We should still continue with some of our old traditions, right?”

Catra closed her eyes, breathing in deep for a second.

“Hey,” Adora continued, lightly punching Catra’s shoulder. “Stop listening to Shadow Weaver! She’s a horrible person, you know that! She doesn’t care about you. But _I_ do. And I'm not going to let anyone ruin your day. I care about you too much to watch that happen."

Catra finally met Adora’s eyes. “You care about me?”

“Course I do, stupid!” Adora was somehow still smiling. It was a smile Catra could get lost in, a perfect mixture of innocence and cute confidence that was so very, well, _Adora_. Somehow, Adora’s smile always managed to light to her blue-greys. They looked a little bit like the sky, her irises a never-ending a warm, sunny day. It was so easy to get lost in Adora's eyes. Or her smile, or the slight bounce of her hair in the breeze. Or the way her hands firmly-and-softly-at-the-same-time grabbed the railing. 

Correction: it was so easy to get lost in _all_ of Adora. 

“I wanted to give you your present,” Adora said, breaking a silence Catra had only just noticed. “So, close your eyes.”

Catra dutifully closed her eyes.

“And hold your hands,” Adora continued, her voice soft. 

Catra’s held out her hands, her heart drumming in her chest. She was suddenly very aware of just how close Adora was standing to her. She was breathing practically in Catra's face, her body was only inches away from Catra's. Adora placed her hands on Catra’s, gently placing a small object in Catra’s palms. Catra desperately hoped Adora’s hands would linger, all she ever wanted in that moment was to bathe in her soft touch.

“Happy birthday," Adora said. Her voice was barely a whisper. 

Catra tried to contain a shiver; she could barely breathe. The only thing she could focus on was how Adora's hands were still wrapped tightly around Catra's, holding on for one second longer than they needed to. How can you think about something as trivial as breathing when Adora's breath is falling softly onto your skin? How can you feel anything else when Adora's hands are wrapped around yours, warm and soft and firm and so _wonderfully_ Adora?

Catra looked up slowly to meet Adora's soft eyes. She longed for time to stop, for just a moment, so she could stare into them forever. 

But then Adora was moving her hands away, and the moment was gone.

“You can open now,” Adora said excitedly. She seemed very pleased with herself about this gift.

Catra opened her eyes. She was holding a Force Captain badge, only it was somewhat destroyed, covered in heavy scratches and dark marks. It flashed bright, blinking lights in a dizzying frenzy. Catra felt like she might go blind from looking at it too long.

“It’s a Force Captain badge?” Catra remarked, confused as to why Adora was so excited about it. “It’s a _broken_ Force Captain badge.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Adora said, scratching the back of her neck. “I couldn’t get a new one.”

“Can I ask, per chance, what your reasoning was?”

“Well, I figured, it’s always been our dreams to be Force Captains, right?” Adora began. “I mean, that’s what we’ve _always_ wanted. So I figured this would kind of, I don’t know, symbolize that promise, I guess? I don’t really know, I saw it and thought of you.”

“You thought of me?”

“Of course I thought of you, it’s your birthday!”

Catra felt her heart skip a beat.

“But that’s beside the point, doofus!” Adora cried, punching Catra’s shoulder again.

“And what, pray tell, _is_ the point?” 

“Just read the inscription.”

Catra rolled the badge over. On the back there was a messy carving of words. It took a minute for Catra to decipher it, but eventually she could read the inscription.

**_you’re always gonna be my friend_ **

**_-love, Adora_ **

Something about the “love, Adora,” made Catra hold onto the badge tight, as if she would never be able to let it go. She knew Adora meant it in a platonic context, but it was Catra’s birthday and she was determined to let herself have at least one wish.

“Do you remember how we used to say that to each other, as kids?” Adora asked, breaking a silence that had fallen between them.

“Yeah,” Catra said, her voice quiet. “I remember.”

Catra clipped the badge to her shirt and smiled. “Thank you, Adora. For everything. And this. _Especially_ this. It was really sweet of you.”

“I just wanted to make today special,” Adora replied, smiling once again.

She was so painfully unaware of the yearning in Catra’s heart, of how Catra’s throat was catching on tears because of the words “love, Adora.” She was naive and innocent and cute and stupid and _absolutely fucking perfect_ and Catra thought she might just melt if Adora kept staring at her like that. 

It was all Catra could do but stare at Adora and her half-smile-half-grin, the soft curve of her face and strong definition of her shoulders. The wind, rustling through her beautiful blond hair like ripples in water; her eyes, as blue as the sky yet ten times as perfect, endlessly intoxicating as Catra stared into them.

“Can I give you something, too?” Catra asked. Her heart was beating fast. _Should it even be beating this much?_

Adora sighed. “I mean, it’s your birthday, you’re not technically supposed to⸺”

“Just let me do this. Please.”

Adora sighed. “Ok.”

Catra took a step closer to Adora. “Close your eyes.”

Adora closed her eyes, a dopey smile peaking out of the corners of her face. 

“And open your hands.”

Adora held out her hands, palms up. 

Catra took another step closer.

It was suddenly so clear what she had to do. Grab Adora’s hands. Lean in, eyes closed, and kiss her. Kiss her to shut her up, kiss her because she was standing like that, so innocent and cute and beautiful, kiss her because Catra was so desperately in love, and she couldn't go on pretending anymore. 

Maybe then, Adora might kiss her back. Maybe then, they would break their hands apart and slowly wrap them around each other’s backs, pulling each other close as they slowly dissolved the space between their bodies. Maybe then, Adora might love someone as broken as Catra. 

Catra’s face was painfully close to Adora’s, their lips inches from touching. 

“Are you going to give me my gift, or what?” Adora asked. She was still clueless; her stupid, wonderfully cute, dopey grin still on stretching across her face.

Idiot. 

Catra pulled her face away and pushed Adora to the ground, falling on top of her as she tackled Adora to the ground. Adora fell back laughing.

“I guess I should’ve seen that coming,” Adora laughed. 

_Right. Because what else could Catra_ possibly _ever want? A kiss? She had to be out of her mind._

Adora grabbed Catra’s shoulders and rolled on top of her, grinning wildly, with her hair brushing against Catra’s skin. Catra felt herslf losing her breath, and she couldn’t tell if it was from panic or mere desperation. Her head was racing, her lungs desperately pumping air she had forgotten how to breathe.

“I can’t believe you did all that just to tackle me,” Adora teased. “You know you need more than just a clever trick to beat me, right?"

Catra didn't say anything.

"I'm going to go inside," Adora said, still laughing. She stood up and dusted herself off. “You coming?”

“In a minute.” Catra nearly choked on the words. She waited to stand up until Adora was inside, and she was once again alone on the balcony.

Catra kicked the railing. One of the bolts that held in place flew off, but Catra was too angry and hurt to care. How could she be so stupid? How could she be so dumb as to think that a girl as perfect as Adora ever love someone as broken as Catra? They were friends, she was a project; they were nothing more and they might never be more. Catra was stupid and foolish and hopelessly naive to wish for anything more than that. 

_Especially_ a kiss. A stupid, ~~would-have-been-~~ ~~perfect,~~ regrettable kiss. 

Enraged with herself, Catra threw the Force Captain badge as far as she could, watching it fall into the abyss of metal below. It landed with a dull _thunk_ that Catra tried to pretend she didn’t hear, yet she still twisted up inside at the noise. Her “love, Adora,” the only proof that she had the Adora had ever loved her, was gone. Catra had thrown it away, just like she thrown away her only chance. 

How absolutely _fucking_ ironic. 

The rage slowly dissipated, leaving Catra with a dull pain that slowly turned into a desperate ache. She leaned against the railing, gasping for breath. She could feel her throat catching as an awful, bitter taste coated the back of her mouth. Tears that had been welling in her eyes spilled over, leaving her cheeks and lips stained with salty streams. 

Catra thought that birthdays were supposed to be sweet.

But all she could taste was the bitter taste of regret and a love long gone.


End file.
